


i made you cry because i know i can

by summerdowns



Category: Looking for Alaska - John Green
Genre: Alaska being a bitch, Alaska is so hard to write, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Melodrama, Nobody is Dead, Not Canon Compliant, Sara being Sara, Underage Smoking, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerdowns/pseuds/summerdowns
Summary: “You know what, Alaska? You’re really good at playing puppet master, but you are not in control. People aren’t your pawns.”
Relationships: Alaska Young & Sara, Miles "Pudge" Halter/Chip "The Colonel" Martin (mentioned)
Kudos: 12





	i made you cry because i know i can

It’s late- near dark out- but nowhere near curfew. It’s still hot as hell outside, not as bad as during the day, but just enough to feel the sweat collecting on the back of your neck.

Alaska, of course, is on the swing. Cigarette in hand, she digs her heels into the ground and rocks herself slowly. The chains are rusted over, the bolts squeak with every movement- back and forth, back and forth- it’s grating, but familiar. It’s the only thing breaking the silence. Even the bugs have seemed to settle as the night grows.

Alaska is alone tonight.

Chip and Miles are off somewhere. _Probably fucking,_ she thinks. Before she would’ve giggled at the idea; Chip had Sara, and she assumed Miles was head-over-ass in-love with her, and the thought of the two of them together was almost impossible to imagine. Things are different now. They may not _actually_ be fucking- not yet, at least- but there _is_ something there, and neither of them is with Alaska, which is the only issue that fucking _matters._

Takumi is-well, she’s not sure where he is. He hasn’t been around much, and- you know what? Whatever. She shouldn’t care- she _doesn’t_ care- there are no _feelings_ to be had about Takumi. They’d been down that road before- there’s nothing there, and it never ends well. She feels better pretending that none of it happened. Playing pretend is always what she’s been good at, she’ll make believe she enjoys the solitude.

She should be used to this, she thrives off of mystery, people pay attention when she broods. Instead, she feels...uncomfortable. Nervous, almost. It’s like in the most subtle of ways the world has been tilted just slightly off-axis, but she’s the only one who’s noticed.

Then she hears footsteps. 

“Whoever you are, state your place of business or fuck off.”

Whoever it is walks closer, plopping down to the side of the swing set. 

It’s Sara. She looks to Alaska briefly, at the cherry-red glow of her cigarette, and sighs.

“Bum a smoke?”

Alaska shrugs, hands her one from the pack and pulls out her lighter, offering her the flame. They lock eyes when Sara lights up, neither turning away until the end of Sara’s cigarette glows orange, and then she breaks eye contact, looking back over the lake as she releases her first breath. Alaska watches Sara watch the water and she’s confronted with a thought, a sign blazing in her mind’s eye. 

Sara was pretty. She was blonde, almost to the point of platinum, green-eyed, and full-lipped. She looked like a movie star, but a crazy one. The ones who are nice in public, but then, later on, you hear about them screaming at a waitress, or a nurse- something wild like that. Sara’s crazy was in her smile, but it was subtle. She was a Weekday Warrior, she disappeared to her high-class neighborhood in the suburbs every weekend. Her friends were assholes to people they didn’t like, and her parents were most likely sitting on a giant trust fund that would last her into her 30s. She was conventional. Boring, even. Conventional girls did not bum cigarettes off the resident ‘boarding school wild-child’.

“It’s actually kind of pretty here, y’know, when it’s not, like, a million degrees.” Sara blows another puff of smoke over the water.

“I bet you’ve seen better.” Alaska rocks back hard in the swing, stomps out her ashen cigarette, and lights another.

Sara turns to face her. “Since when do you chain-smoke?”

“Since when do you smoke ever?”

Sara rolls her eyes. Alaska has always known how to play her just right, pushes all her buttons until she short circuits and resets, and then Alaska does it all over again.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Well then,” Alaska takes another drag, blowing the smoke in Sara’s direction, “What _does_ matter?”

Sara shakes her head, looking at the grass between her feet before she finally spits it out. “Chip and I are done.”

Alaska snorts, and Sara shoots her a look, which just makes Alaska laugh harder because, like, _what the fuck?_

“God, fuck you, Alaska,” she mutters, “I knew I shouldn’t have come here.” She starts to get up, and Alaska can finally curb her laughter enough to convince Sara to stay.

“No, hey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just,” she giggles, “Did you not think that he told me already?”

“Did he seem upset?” _Oh,_ so that’s what this is about. Alaska debates trying to protect her feelings, but then she remembers who she’s talking to and decides to burst her bubble just a little bit.

“Yeah,” and Sara puffs up slightly, ”But not for very long.” Alaska is a little smug watching Sara completely deflate, and she figures she should probably feel at least a little bad about it, but ultimately she’s doesn’t feel anything, and she can’t be bothered to care.

Sara cranes her head back and breathes out another heavy sigh. “Of course not.”

“Look, it’s not a big deal. You guys were gonna break up anyway.”

Sara snorts this time. “Wow, thanks for the faith Alaska. It’s not like _you_ set us up or anything.”

Alaska ashes out another cigarette. “I know. It doesn’t mean I didn’t know you guys weren’t gonna break up anyway. Fate is fate, or whatever.” The resulting silence is deafening. 

Sara stands up, stomps out her cigarette, and stands square in front of the swing. Her eyes are rimmed wet, but she doesn’t look upset or angry. She just looks tired.

“You know what, Alaska? You’re _really_ good at playing puppet master, but you are _not_ in control. _People aren’t your pawns_.”

She leaves, muttering ‘curfew in 15’, knowing full well that Alaska doesn’t care, won’t be leaving this swing until the moon is high in the sky.

None of this should bother Alaska. Sara is basic, a boarding school robot, just like all the others. She tried to stand against Alaska and got shot down, Alaska should be satisfied. Sara’s surrendered, tipped her King and held up her hands, but this doesn’t feel like a game Alaska’s won. 

She lights up another cigarette instead.

**Author's Note:**

> I needed more bitchy Alaska, and then this happened. Also, this is the first thing I've written finished and posted in over a year and I'm actually pretty happy with it.
> 
> soundtrack:  
> I don't know you- The Marias  
> Becky-be your own PET


End file.
